Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

'Open up,' Rabastan snarled.

Caroline Blanc was a survivor. Ever since she had fled her home at the age of nine and arrived at the doors of Beauxbatons, hungry and with skin scraped from three nights on the streets – she had known it.

Madame Lavigne, the Charms professor, had found her, gasped, and treated her to a hot bowl of soup and bouillabaisse. It was better than her own parents had ever treated her, the useless drunkards and gamblers. Madame Lavigne had immediately agreed to take her in, like Beauxbatons did with so many magical orphans, but she treated the fiery child like her own daughter.

Caroline would never forget the kindness that had been shown to her, and all that Beauxbatons had done for her. It gave her the strength to look Rabastan in the eye as he force fed her a potion that was supposed to heal her wounds suffered in the dining hall. She was to weak to resist any further, and fervently hoped the potion would do what he said.

'There's a good girl,' the death eater said approvingly, as he stepped back from the chair she was sitting. Within five minutes, her blood-red wounds disappeared, though their rust-coloured stain remained on her clothes. Caroline's eyes slowly started to close, no matter how much she tried to keep them open. A sleeping draught must also have been mixed in with the healing potion.

'Merde,' she whispered in a strained breath before falling asleep.

When she woke up again, she was lying in a soft bed with softer pillows, with a fresh set of clothes and mildly damp hair. Sun streamed in through the windows and the passing clouds made flickering patterns on the white sheets. Her body felt light and unencumbered, yet her mind was quietly apprehensive. The bed was comfortable, but she didn't let herself forget where she was, and how she got there. Though her skin was now smooth, phantom scars traced their surface, the pain fresh in her mind as her fingers traced where they had been. Rabastan was close by, her heart quickened; she had to be alert. She shifted about in bed, pushing herself up to a sitting position, when something soft and smooth brushed her hand. Caroline had to bite her lip to keep herself from squealing in surprise. A muffled groan came from somewhere beside her.

'Shush,' a formless, female timbre whispered into her ear. It sounded vaguely familiar, but Caroline couldn't quite match it to a face. 'You're finally awake.' the voice sounded relieved.

'Who are you? Why are you invisible?'

'I'm Fleur Delacour,' there was a hint of annoyance in her voice at not being recognized. But Caroline should have known. Fleur was one of those infamous missing students, who had troubled the Death Eaters to no end, and rumors were rife that she had escaped with Aurelie. The Veela's expertise in invisibility was well-known, so Caroline guessed it wasn't a surprise she had been with them all along. But why hadn't she revealed herself before?

'I'm here to help you,' Fleur continued. 'I was afraid Rabastan had given you the Draught of Living Death, but it looks like he just put you to sleep.'

What does he want with me?' Caroline gingerly swung her feet out of bed and placed them on the ground. Her wand was nowhere to be found. She looked around. It was a small room, covered in blue, with a single bed and and desk on the side.

'Nothing good,' Fleur muttered. 'Let's g–'

The door creaked open at that very moment, making Caroline jump.

'Looks like Miss Frenchie is up.' Rabastan smirked at her. He cast an appreciating eye over her. 'Ah, I see that pesky house elf took good care of you.'

Caroline picked up a jar conveniently placed on the nearby table and threw it at him, making a quick dart for the half-open door, but she didn't manage two steps before being immobilized. Rabastan condescendingly waved his wand at her.

'I thought you might try something like that.' he reached forward and caressed her cheek with the palm of his hand, almost amused at the fire dancing in her eyes. 'You have caused Lord Voldemort much trouble, Miss Blanc.'

Caroline felt like screaming and kicking and punching the smug Death Eater where it would hurt the most, but she couldn't move. Rabastan had barely placed a hand on her back when a red spell narrowly went shooting past his head. A muffled sound of annoyance came from the far corner of the room. Rabastan immediately pulled Aurelie in front of him like a shield and pointed his wand at the corner of the room.

'Show yourself!' he exclaimed.

No reply. The bed rustled.

'Show yourself. Or she dies.' Rabastan shouted, pressing his wand into her neck.

Fleur came into view, lighting up the room with her ethereal beauty, standing about two feet in front of them. She had her wand pointed straight at the two of them.

'It's you!' Rabastan's eyes were wide with shock. 'We've been looking for you.'

'Let her go.' Fleur said calmly, but Caroline could see a bit of fear in her eyes. Maybe Rabastan could too, because he laughed at her words.

'Drop your wand, girl,' he commanded. 'It is of no use. You'll have to hit your friend before you can even touch me.'

For a second Fleur almost looked bewildered, lowering her wand, before a steely glint came into her eyes. She winked at Caroline as she pulled up her wand and shot off a quick, silent spell at the duo.

'You hit her!' Rabastan laughed uproariously, 'you think you could...' It was at that moment that he realised something was wrong. Very wrong. The stiff body in his arms had suddenly gone limp. It was the only thought that crossed his mind before a hard elbow came crashing straight into his face, sending his world into darkness and agony. Caroline quickly pushed off the burly man, and Fleur finished him off with a well-aimed Stupefy.

The two girls shared a quick hug before standing over the Death Eater, wondering what to do with him.

'We can't leave him here,' Fleur mused. 'He'll go and tell Voldemort about me and then it would be almost impossible to hide.'

'I'd like to kill him,' Caroline whispered thickly, thinking about her pain and the scars and the blood, and what he could have done to her if Fleur hadn't been there. But she quickly shook her head. 'No,' she said, taking a deep breath and calming herself. 'We're better than the Death Eaters. We can't kill him.'

Fleur nodded and reached for Rabastan's pocket, taking out a wand. It was Caroline's, which she took gratefully. Fleur viciously snapped Rabastan's wand like a dry twig and threw it out of the window.

'I know what we can do,' she said, leading Caroline out of the room. It opened up into a larger room that was decorated with sofas and tables with bottles of Firewhisky lying around. Fleur wrinkled her nose and turned back.

'We're going to lock the door with the strongest charms we know.' she told Caroline with a satisfied smirk. 'Without magic, he'll be helpless.'

Caroline added a small spell at the end after they made sure even a strong wizard would find it hard to get out of the room. 'I silenced the room,' she explained to Fleur, 'so nobody hears his cries of agony and despair.'

'Won't he starve in there?'

Caroline shrugged. 'He'll be fine for a few days at least. I think I noticed some drinks in his coat – we can worry about him later.'

They both applied invisibility charms on themselves before exciting Rabastan's quarters and into the Beauxbaton's corridors, both sporting identically evil grins on their faces.

Harry faced Mr Trak defiantly, wand in hand, feet planted in the wet grass, and eyes focused in front of him.

'Again,' the goblin commanded.

Harry cleared his mind, pointed his wand at the goblin, and said, 'Expelliarmus.'

The red light travelled towards his instructor, reflected back inches from the scaly skin, and hit Harry straight in the chest. He staggered back a few steps as his wand flew out of his hands. He felt light-headed, but for the first time, managed to stay conscious. He fought to stay awake, barely succeeding in taming the approaching darkness, like he would a Leglimency attack.

After two minutes, Mr Trak walked towards him with an appraising look on his face. He picked up Harry's wand and handed it back to him. It had been almost a month of training.

'Good,' he said. It was the first compliment Harry had received, ever, from the surly goblin.

'I did it,' Harry exclaimed in astonishment, joy and hope filling his chest. He had been convinced it was impossible to stay conscious after being hit by his own spell. It was a side effect all Arxmancers faced. Since the first time Harry had been able to make a rudimentary Arxmancy barrier around him, a thin shield always surrounded his skin, Mr Trak had explained. It wouldn't stop a first year's spell, but it would always surround Harry and was connected to his magical core. It was a permanent mark that he was an Arxmancer. As he would grow more experienced, the shield would grow outwards and thicken, protecting him from stronger and more dangerous spells. In its early stages, the shield regarded all magic towards him as dangerous, and tried to protect him from it, albeit failing most of the time. But when Harry's own magic interacted with his shield, it got confused and tried to both repel and absorb it at the same time. The end result was, quite literally, mind-blowing.

Harry knew that, because he had been knocked unconscious at least a dozen times each day in the past month, from his own spell reflecting off Mr Trak's Arxmancy shield. It probably wasn't good for his mental defenses, but the surly goblin assured him that as long as Harry took the potions he had been prescribed, he would be fine. While he wasn't being worn out by his training, that is.

Training his Arxmancy shield to recognize his own magic was the first step towards mastery, and Mr Trak had insisted he learn it before trying for anything more radical. It reminded Harry of his early lessons with Mr Durant, trying to keep his wand in his hand while being hit with a disarming spell. Both methods basically performed the same task, attuning ones selves to their own magic. It seemed like the first stage towards more advanced magic.

And Harry had succeeded. Well, sort of.

'Again,' Mr Trak said in his usual surly tone.

'Wha- what?' Harry asked. He had just done it. Finally. Couldn't they take a break or–

Mr Trak coughed. 'Again.'

Harry shook his head, half-frustrated, half-exhausted, and flicked his wand sharply, 'Expelliarmus.'

Fresh with confidence, he was sure he would be able to handle it. But his concentration wavered, and he received the full brunt of the backlash from his spell like a blow to the side of his head.

He crumpled unconscious on his side. His only thought as he fell – not again.

He was in familiar place, inside the walls of Beauxbatons; in the same strange dreamlike trance that he got lost in almost every time he got knocked out. Many times he would find himself walking the corridors aimlessly as strangers walked by – both Death Eaters with surly faces and students with eyes so deadened and empty that they might have been Imperiused. Once, he had even seen the gaunt visage of Voldemort, those terrifying blood-red eyes which bored right into his soul and destroyed all in its path.

But today he found himself in a corporeal shape, with a sharp mind and focused eyes gazing upon the sleeping form of the beautiful woman who haunted his dreams every night. He rationalized it as his guilt, borne out of a strong sense of loyalty, that refused to let him forget exactly what he had done and what was at stake if made even a single mistake. His subconscious mind was in a particularly devious mood today, Harry thought wryly, as he looked at Fleur's prone form in front of him. He watched the rhythmic movement of her chest and the slow, steady breathing that characterized a deep slumber. It felt so real... It was almost as if he could almost reach out and touch her, but he didn't want to wake her.

' 'Arry?' he heard a soft gasp behind him.

No, it couldn't be. He whirled around. 'Fleur?' he said, as everything went dark. No, no, he was so close! He had to see if it was her! He scrunched his mental eyebrows and painstakingly recollected all that he had just seen, reliving each of the tiny details. The smell of her hair, the creases in her dress. He held that picture in his mind, almost willing the dream back into existence.

Then, just as if a lightbulb had switched on, he was back in Beauxbatons. Fleur was still sleeping, and the voice he had heard seemed to have no source he could discern. But something felt off. Was it the vivid nature of his dream or was it just the foreboding chill of a nightmare in his heart? He took a step towards Fleur, and her eyes opened instantly, as if she had heard him.

'Harry Potter,' she murmured, the name rolling off her lips in wonder. He immediately rushed to her side and gripped her hand in his. It felt soft and real and reassuring.

'Is it really you, Fleur?' he asked. It felt like it – he wanted it to be real, to be more than just a dream, and with all the magic around him, it might just be that.

'Yes, it's been so long.' she smiled for a moment. 'I wish we had time to talk and catch up, but I need your help.' the smile vanished, replaced by a somber look. 'You-Know-Who is looking for me. He knows I'm hiding somewhere in Beauxbatons, but he can't find me.'

Harry grew angry - worried and angry, as Fleur continued to speak, describing how she had always been hiding and almost got caught a couple of times. He had hoped his Cloak would have shielded Fleur, but it seemed there was no hiding from Voldemort.

'He's so powerful, Harry!' Fleur's voice trembled, 'I'm risking so much by talking to you, but I had to tell you. You have to come to Beauxbatons, you have to save me.'

'Save you?' Harry echoed,' everyone's trying to save you, Fleur – the Ministry, Dumbledore, your father...'

'Not them,' Fleur pressed a finger on his lips. 'You. Only you can. Remember how you stopped You-Know-Who's spell from touching you? Not even Dumbledore could do that. Only you have that power, Harry. You don't have to be afraid of him.'

Harry stared into the distance, remembering the fight in the gardens; and when he defeated Voldemort in his first year, and then his second year. 'Yes,' he muttered. 'I can stop him.'

'Yes, Harry,' she said encouragingly. 'You just have to believe in yourself.'

He had got so much better at Arxmancy. He wasn't clueless about its capabilities or the power it possessed now. She was right, nobody could touch him if he used that power. He had to believe he could when it mattered the most.

'I'm coming, Fleur,' he told her, gripping her hand tightly and looking into her eyes. She averted her eyes, her body stiffening.

'What happened?' Shivers shot up his spine.

Fleur let go of his hand, closing her eyes as if pain. 'You-Know-Who,' she gasped, 'he's near. I have to go.'

'Where?' Harry exclaimed and stood up, wand in his hand.

'Bye, Harry,' she said with a sad smile, 'I'll be waiting for you.'

Harry found himself roughly pushed back into consciousness, back in his bed at Delacour manor. A myriad of conflicting emotions swirled through his mind, at the forefront of which was amazement at having just spoken to Fleur. He was convinced she had been real – he remembered the dream vividly. And she needed his help. He had to help. No one else could. But how would he get into Beauxbatons? The Ministry had been trying for weeks, but to no avail. His mind spun into sixth gear. There was very little time. Fleur had made it clear she was in imminent danger. Despair filled his heart. It was like living in his worst nightmare.

Harry desperately tried to think of ways to get into the school, each thought crazier than the last. Break the wards with Arxmancy? No, he didn't think Arxmancy could do that. Convince Sirius to turn him into an Animagus? No, that would take too long. Turn himself over to Voldemort? No, that wouldn't help anybody.

Then, within the swirl of muddled thoughts, a single clear solution emerged. One that he didn't believe he hadn't thought of before.

Aurelie, of course! She had gotten out of the school after the attack, and had clearly been working with Voldemort. Her betrayal rankled deeply, but if anybody could help him, she definitely would. This would be a test of her true loyalty. Harry flew into action and didn't let himself have any second thoughts as he gripped his wand in his hand, fingers curling around tightly. Don't worry, Fleur, he thought, I'm coming for you.

'Name?'

'Aurelie.'

'Full name, please.' the Ministry official grimaced, tapping his quill on the piece of paper.

'Aurelie de La Fontaine,' the red-haired girl replied, enjoying her interrogator's frustration. She had been interrogated by some stoic Auror almost every day for the past few weeks, and they always insisted on starting with the same inane formalities. She enjoyed riling them up whenever she could – it was one of the few pleasures left to her now.

'Place of birth?'

'St Chamond'

She had been tempted to say France, but that joke hadn't quite worked on the last interrogator she had tried it on. He had sent her straight back to the little room with the even tinier bed she was forced to stay the night at. And even though it was a pain, she preferred being questioned rather than stewing by herself in her cell for the whole day.

'Do you work for the foreign rebel leader who calls himself Lord Voldemort?'

'No,' Aurelie answered flatly. She had answered these questions more times than she could count now. Monsieur Delacour hadn't been able to force her to tell the truth. Hours after he had obtained permission to administer Veritaserum to her, it had been revoked by the Minister without explanation. She knew the Minister hadn't acted without provocation. There was someone who held sway over the Minister, the same someone who would very much prefer she keep her secrets. She had a very good idea of who it could be. It irked her. Needless to say, Monseiur Delacour had been furious, and subjected her to an unrelenting barrage of questions and interrogations, but she was good at lying, and her answers mostly amounted to a whole amount of nothing.

'Tell me about your childhood.'

This was a new tactic. They had recently started asking her questions which had nothing to do with Voldemort. 'I was happy,' she replied blithely, 'I was a small, fun-loving little girl who picked flowers and played in the garden all day.'

The interrogator kept down his pad and stared at her patiently. He knew she was trying to be flippant. 'Which flowers?' he asked seriously.

Aurelie paused. 'Dahlias,' she said, 'did you know they're supposed to signify betrayal? Isn't that a funny coincidence?' she laughed in half-crazed way. To her surprise, her feigned madness was only feigned in part. She could feel the endless days of monotony slowly taking her around the bend.

The interrogator stood up. 'Take some time for yourself. I will come back in... let's say four hours from now?'

His words were meant to be cruel, but she didn't mind much. As soon as the Auror had gone, she pressed herself to the left wall and muttered,

'Did you hear that?' she asked.

A deep, rumbling laughter came from beyond the wall. 'Yes,' Draco chuckled.

They were always kept in adjoining cells, which Aurelie had discovered a couple of days after falling asleep against the wall; she had woken up and was clearly able to hear Draco being asked questions. He hadn't been given Veritaserum either, since he was a foreign citizen and relations between the countries were strained already as things were.

'It was a particularly nice touch about the Dahlias,' his voice came smoothly through to her. There was a small crack in the wall which cut right through to the other side. 'I could tell he hadn't expected that answer.'

'You should have seen his face,' she chuckled. 'He thought I'd gone mad.'

'You're not mad,' he replied, 'you're just a gifted liar. Better than even me, perhaps.'

Coming from Draco, that was high praise. But...

'I wasn't lying,' Aurelie corrected softly.

'You... what?' Draco's voice was faint, confused.

'Dahlias were always my favorite flowers to pick – especially the deep purple ones.'

Draco didn't reply immediately, but as the silence stretched between them, he said,

'I liked bluebells,'

The awkwardness between them vanished as Aurelie started laughing, imagining Draco picking bluebells.

'Only to look at,' a voice growled through the wall.

'Sure,' she replied, but the smile didn't die from her face.

It took Harry a full day to convince Mr Delacour to take him on a tour of the Bureau des Aurors. The Ministry was working around the clock, with Monsieur Delacour at the centre of everything. He hardy spent time in the manor, coming back for a brief nap before Flooing out again early morning. Harry insisted, as his birthright, that he simply had to see with his own eyes what they were doing to stop Voldemort, before the Head of the Aurors relented to take him the next morning.

The Ministry was a sparking tapestry of efficiency and grandeur, with marble archways and clearly demarcated signs leading to the different departments. Witches and wizards with official badges milled about in colorful robes, a cacophony of conversation and the patter of shoes on the floor. Harry noticed there was an air of dismal coherence to the place, though it was well-hidden – having everyone's sons and daughters trapped in the school had shaken the general populace to their very core.

The floors had intercrossing green and blue geometric designs, out of which an arrow sometimes popped up to assist a lost visitor. Harry had never visited the British Ministry of Magic, but he doubted it would be half as impressive as this one.

'This is our main walkway,' Mr Delacour described while walking at a brisk pace. 'Everybody who enters and leaves must pass through here. As a security measure, Floo fireplaces are not permitted in the inner part of the Ministry. Of course, you cannot Apparate in or out of here either.'

Harry listened attentively, filing away details in his mind which might prove useful to make a quick escape from the Ministry. Of course, his primary goal for coming here was to get Aurelie out of this place, or at the very least talk to her, so she could tell him how to get into Beauxbatons. With Mr Delacour watching him all day, that might be difficult. He would have to find a way to give the Head Auror the slip somehow.

'The west wing encompasses of the crime analysis and the investigative department along with the holding cells.' Mr Delacour pointed down a deserted corridor. 'The north-east wing, however, comprises of the meteorology-'

'The west wing,' Harry interrupted innocently, 'Is that where Aurelie is being kept, by any chance?'

Mr Delacour sighed. 'I should have known you would ask,' he paused, 'she is well cared for, considering what she did, and she's only kept in the holding cells while she's being questioned.'

He looked at Harry for a pensive moment, before continuing in a businesslike tone to describe the meteorology department and other functionalities of the east wing. Harry didn't press the issue - he knew what he needed to and he didn't want to make Mr Delacour suspicious.

The green-eyed boy shadowed his host while the stern man visited several offices, talked to some people and described to Harry what steps the magical government were taking to stop Voldemort. Their Ministry was currently caught in complicated negotiations with the British Ministry with regard to opening their border to allow British Aurors to cross through. It risked Death Eaters getting through, notwithstanding their distrust of the foreign Aurors, and that was just the tip of bureaucratic iceberg. The Ministry also had to deliberate on the news they were to release to the impatient media, which Mr Delacour said gave him a massive headache as he stormed out of the media-witch's office.

They wound up in the large, lavishly decorated Head Auror's office around midday. Harry sat on a high backed chair with hard cushions that oddly felt comfortable; as he idly paged through some pamphlets on self-defense. Mr Delacour looked through some documents and signed papers as his assistant, Emily, a bespectacled brunette, bustled in and out. After half-an-hour, Harry decided an appropriate amount of time had passed.

'Mr Delacour?' he said politely, 'Please excuse me. I need to use the restroom.'

The Frenchman nodded distractedly as Harry stood up and walked towards the exit. Only when Harry opened the door did his host look up.

'Where are you going?' he asked.

'The restroom,' Harry replied patiently, feet itching to move.

'Oh,' Mr Delacour said, 'You many use my personal restroom. It's behind you on the right.' he went back to his work.

Harry paused, looking at the freedom of the half-open door in front of him, but begrudgingly pulled it close. He briefly visited the restroom, just to keep up appearances, and reassumed his place on the high backed chair. I'm coming, he promised Fleur, just a little bit longer.

The long awaited opportunity finally came when Emily burst into the office after a quick rat-a-tat. She conversed rapidly in French with her boss, involving plenty of animated gestures that Harry couldn't even begin to understand. Emily glanced at Harry sharply a couple of times, and after a quick conversation, Mr Delacour put on his hat and stood up.

'I'm afraid I shall have to leave for a while, Harry,' he said with a sigh, 'the Minister requires my assistance. I trust you will be comfortable in this room, and if you need anything, I'm sure Emily will be happy to help out.'

He looked at Emily who chimed in with a bright, 'Yes, absolutely.'

'Perfect,' he looked at Harry, 'À tout à l'heure, Harry'

'Au revoir, Monsieur,' Harry muttered distractedly. He was already thinking of how to get past Emily. It took him all of five minutes to decide that directness was the best way. Subtlety had never been his strong suit. He gathered up all of his confidence and stepped out of the office. Emily sat in a cubicle just next to him, and she approached him with a questioning expression.

'Sorry to disturb you, Madame Emily–'

'Monet,' she cut him off, 'you may address me as Mademoiselle Monet'

'Of course, Mademoiselle Monet,' Harry flustered, feeling his confidence waning all of a sudden. He thought of Fleur and hardened his resolve.

'Monsieur Delacour mentioned he would take me to see Aurelie, you know her?' he paused as she nodded with pursed lips. 'Well, since he's occupied, I was wondering if you be kind enough to show me the way.'

Harry had completely forgotten the way to the west wing, through the muddle of corridors, and he really needed her help though he didn't show it.

Emily looked unsure. 'I should ask Monsieur-'

'Oh, no need,' Harry cut her off. 'I wouldn't want to disturb him in a meeting with the Minister, would you?' Put that way, Emily seemed more inclined, but still required some more prodding. 'He did say that you would help me out if I needed anything.'

Emily looked thoughtful. 'S'il vous plaît, Mademoiselle Monet,' Harry said, 'I would really like to meet her once – see how she's doing.'

She shook her head with a slight smile at his insistence. 'I don't recall Monsieur Delacour mentioning this visit to me, but I know you were friends with the girl.' she tilted her head. 'I'm sure he won't mind if I take you, instead of him. Let's go.' she turned around with a brief motion to Harry to follow her.

Harry cheered inwardly as he followed the prim secretary. She made light conversation while they walked, asking how he knew Aurelie, and pointing out some details about the design of the building that Mr Delacour hadn't mentioned. Finally, they were in the jail area of the west wing. They walked past some petty criminals and thieves, and then by Draco's cell, where he seemed to be sleeping, and stopped in front of Aurelie's temporary home. She had legs folded up as she leaned her back against the grey stone wall. Her usually immaculate hair was strewn haphazardly around her shoulders, and her legs and arms seemed thinner than he had ever seen. She started as she recognized him, and their eyes met.

'Umm, Mademoiselle Monet,' Harry ran a hand through his hair as he looked at her. 'Could you give us a moment alone?'

She nodded. 'I'll be waiting at the entrance,' she looked at Harry kindly. 'I hope you find what you came for.'

Harry gave her a curious glance as she walked away, and turned his attention to Aurelie. She looked calm, waiting for him to talk. He took a deep breath, and approached the bars.

'Hey,' he said.

'Bonjour, Harry,'

He regarded her with distrustful eyes, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the girl he had effectively helped send to prison.

'How have you been?' he asked her.

'I've survived.'

He knew Mr Delacour wouldn't resort to such measures, but still... 'They haven't hurt you, have they?' he asked. Her body and spirit seemed to have been drained of their vitality, but his words sent a flutter of irritation through her eyes.

'Not physically,' she replied shortly.

'I'm sorry,' he muttered, and he truly was – for the way that things turned out. But his words only seemed to enrage the girl.

'I know you don't care about me, Harry. Why are you here?' she asked harshly.

'I... I do care, that you're well,' he said with a touch of ironic sincerity,' just not as much as I used to.'

Dead silence met his words.

'You're not too upset, are you?' he ventured, looking at the girl's stormy eyes.

'Boo. Fucking. Hoo,' Aurelie deadpanned, 'I'm devastated with misery.' She glared at him. 'What do you want from me?'

'I need your help,' Harry stated strongly. He had to convince her, no matter how angry or miserable she was. 'Fleur's in danger – she's trapped in Beauxbatons, and I need to get her out. You worked with... with Voldemort – you know how to get in. You have to help me.'

Aurelie narrowed her eyes. 'Fleur's in danger? How do you know? And why should I get into this mess with you, or her?'

Harry sighed and explained his recurring dreams to her as quickly as he could, ending with Fleur's plea for help. She listened with rapt attention, but infuriatingly smirked when he finished. 'That answers my first two questions. But you didn't answer – what's in it for me? And besides, I can't help you if I'm trapped in this hellhole of a Ministry cell.'

It was clear what Aurelie was prompting him to say – for him to offer to break her out. That could be... difficult. He had a vague idea of how to go about it, but he wasn't remotely sure that he would succeed. Nevertheless, he was quickly running out of options.

'First, tell me how to get into Beauxbatons.' Harry commanded, 'Actually, do you know how to get in?'

'No, and yes. And I'll say nothing else until you get me out of here.'

He grimaced, looking over his shoulder for Mademoiselle Monet, but she wasn't in sight.

'Alohomora,' he whispered, pointing his wand at the lock, ignoring the nagging voice that was telling him that she would betray him again the first chance she got.

He stared. The door didn't budge.

Oh well, it was worth a try. Now was time for one his more crazier ideas. He pressed his left hand to the lock built in to the door, and did his best to flare his Arxmancy shields, guiding tendrils of power towards the lock. Something inside him shifted, reacting to the locking spell on the door. Taking a deep breath, and hoping to Merlin this would work and not backfire on his face, he again whispered,

'Alohomora,'

Nothing happened. If he was right, the passive Arxmancy shield surrounding his body, and his palm, would nullify the effect of the spell backlash of the more powerful locking spell which had countered his first unlocking charm.

He pushed the door.

It opened.

Aurelie instantly got her feet, sightly awed, as if she hadn't expected him to be able to open the door. She immediately closed the door and spoke in a low voice.

'The lady who came with you,' she asked, 'where is she?'

'Just outside,' Harry replied.

'How do you plan to get past her, and then outside the Ministry?'

'I...' he shrugged. He hadn't planned that far. 'I don't know about her, but I think we could use the Floo to get out,'

'Do you know how to get to the Floo?'

Harry nodded. It was directly at the end the main walkway.

'Okay,' Aurelie said, and whispered her plan to him through the bars. She then went to the back of her cell and held a short conversation with Draco though their common wall, as Harry could make out from his vantage point. How did Malfoy figure into this?

After five minutes, three people stood in the narrow corridor, disillusioned hastily by Harry's somewhat shoddy spellwork. He refused to let Aurelie touch his wand, despite her protests that she was better at charms than he was. She had forced him to free Draco, insisting the only way to get into Beauxbatons was with his help. Draco refused to acknowledge Harry was rescuing him, and didn't even look him in the eye. However, there was a tenderness in the Slytherin's gaze as he stared at Aurelie, and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

They walked quietly through the thankfully deserted passageway, to where Mademoiselle Monet was waiting patiently, dictating notes to a silver-backed self-writing notebook.

'Sorry,' Harry mouthed, as he stunned her with a quick flash of red light and disillusioned her, placing her gently on the side.

A couple more steps took the trio to the main walkway, which was positively crammed with people trying to get to work or away from it. Bollocks, this was a complication they hadn't expected. Trying to navigate a crowd that couldn't see or avoid you was a recipe for disaster. They stuck to the sides, trying but failing to avoid bumping into Ministry workers. With each shove, push and trodden foot, Harry concentration wavered. He did his best to focus, but his invisibility spell kept flickering. He fervently wished he had his Cloak with him, but Fleur needed it more than he did at the moment.

They were walking on a tightrope and continuously being pushed off-balance by people. Something had to give.

And it did. They were almost at their destination when it happened. The Floo fireplaces were in sight when he saw the last person he wanted to see in the world. Mr Delacour was striding imperiously along the walkway, steel in his eyes and clear purpose in his steps. Harry had evidently been missed.

The Gryffindor froze, trying to push himself closer to the wall. Distracted and in his haste, he bumped hard into someone beside him. Already off-kilter from seeing his illustrious host, Harry tripped on his own feet and went crashing to the floor. His invisibility charms dissolved like ice-pops in water, as the crowd gaped at the now visible escapees. Nobody moved.

Every time someone is caught by surprise, a few seconds pass before they react, as their brain tries to process the sudden anomaly in their world. Draco took advantage of these precious few seconds to pull Aurelie close and whisper something in her ear. A slight blush covered her cheeks as Draco pulled away and whispered to both of his companions,

'I'll distract them. The two of you - run. Run!'

Mr Delacour was already pushing through the crowd towards them. The second exclamation from Draco broke Aurelie from her reverie as she grabbed Harry's hand and pushed through the crowd. Several protests and grunts followed them, but Harry ignored them all as they broke out into a small walk-run.

'Behold, you sorry excuses for mudbloods!' Draco sneered loudly at the working-class backbone of the French magical government. Sounds of outrage broke out.

'Serpensortia Maximus!' Draco cast in front of him with a smile of vindictive delight. A large snake burst out, hissing and slithering threateningly. The crowd shifted away in an enormous shuffle of alarmed feet. A small circle formed around the Slytherin and his snake.

'Scared, wee little wizards?' Draco taunted as another snake burst from his wand. The crowd gasped, and moved back even further. Someone shot a spell at Draco, but he dodged it with unnerving quickness. He sent back a Stupefy. Harry watched on with amazement. Draco was doing a distinctly stupid and un-Slytherin thing by sacrificing his chance to escape for them. No, not them. Her. He chanced a glance at the girl's face, and smiled a bit at her awed face. Maybe those two deserved each other.

It was easy for Harry and Aurelie to make their way through the general confusion. Harry was pretty sure he tore someone's coat as he clawed through the throng. But as he craned his neck to look for a way to the Floo, his eyes suddenly met Mr Delacour's above the crowd. His blood froze as he looked into those disappointed, angry eyes. Pushing through harder, they reached the Floo with bruises all over their body and arms.

Aurelie went first. As Harry stepped into the green flames, the last thing he saw was Draco being overwhelmed by Aurors.

Back in Delacour manor, Aurelie met him with a concerned look.

'Did you see what happened to Draco?'

'The Aurors got him,' he said.

She shook her head, crestfallen. Even though it was the first time he had seen someone show concern for Malfoy, Harry understood her disappointment. Draco had gone against his core principles to make sure Aurelie escaped, even though Harry's stupid and hopeless plan was doomed to failure, as he had so eloquently put it. But Harry was not prepared to wasted precious time, especially for Draco.

'He made his own choices, Aurelie,' Harry said, 'were you lying when you said we couldn't get into Beauxbatons without Malfoy's help?' That was his primary concern.

The red-haired girl shook her head, then nodded. 'No... yes. I mean I thought so, but Draco had lied to me.'

'What?'

'When you asked me the first time, I thought we needed his help, because that's how I got out,' she paused, 'but just before we separated, Draco told me we didn't need him if we knew the activation phrase.'

'The activation phrase for what?' Harry was astonished. Lies upon lies. Would the deception never end?

'The Portkey to Beauxbatons,' she replied.

Before she could elaborate, a half-shaven man with foam covering half his face stumbled into the room.

'I thought I heard voices – oh!' he stopped short upon seeing Aurelie, and straightened his back. He looked at Harry, who shrugged.

'Long story,' the boy replied, 'Fleur needs my help, and she,' he jerked his chin at his companion. 'will help me get into Beauxbatons.'

'Are you sure that's a wise idea?' the former Marauder asked, even as he sported an involuntary grin.

'No,' Harry said slowly, an idea forming in his head. 'Look, Sirius, could you help me with that Unbreakable Vow thingy you told me about? I'm not sure I can trust her yet.'

Beside him, Aurelie's hand flew to her mouth. 'No, Harry!'

He ignored her. 'Padfoot, can you help?' he asked his godfather seriously. Sirius raised a hand to his chin in thought, and brought it away covered in shaving cream. He wiped it absent-mindedly on his shorts.

'I can,' he said, 'but only if you're sure.'

'I won't do it,' Aurelie protested.

'I'm sure.'

'I won't do it!'

'Yes, you will,' Harry turned to her with fire in his eyes. 'You betrayed me, led me on, worked for Voldemort,' he spat the name, 'and told me trust that you were really on my side. Well, if you're really on my side – you should bloody well prove it!'

'I am on your side.'

'Your words mean nothing to me!' Harry raged, 'They're empty lies! Lies like you've been telling me all along!'

Aurelie placed her hand on her heart and turned away, a sliver of wetness covering her eyes. Harry's words seemed to have affected her deeply. She said nothing for a minute, then nodded. 'I decide the wording,' she said quietly, 'and you promise not to turn me over to Mr Delacour when we get back.'

'Deal,' Harry said.

After a few more minutes of consultation with Sirius, the deal was struck.

'Do you, Aurelie, swear to be loyal to me,' Harry asked, clasping hands with her, as his godfather cast the spell, 'and to help me rescue Fleur from Beauxbatons unless it puts your life in immediate danger?'

'I do,' Aurelie replied. 'Will you, Harry, offer me your protection and ensure that Mr Delacour does not find and imprison me again?'

'I will,' he swore, as two shining strands of light encircled their wrists like the red tongue of a snake, and the Vow was sealed.

A huge weight lifted from Harry's mind as the Vow took effect. He had been worried all along that Aurelie would betray him, but now it seemed that he was finally safe. Safe from further betrayal. Safe from unrelenting pain. He smiled at her, a smile that wasn't returned.

'Harry, I need to tell you something,' she said.

'What.' Harry knew the Vow was compelling her to speak.

'I had a suspicion that I didn't tell you, but I think it's important for you to know now,' she looked unsure, 'the dream you told me about,' she paused as Harry nodded, 'the dream in which Fleur asked for your help – it well, it seemed to me like it was too unreal.'

'Unreal?' Harry tilted his head. 'I was talking to Fleur in my dream – of course it was unreal!'

'No, it wasn't that.' Aurelie paused. 'It was the way you described your conversation. She didn't ask about you, she didn't seem to care that asking you to come to Beauxbatons would put you in the greatest possible danger,' she shrugged, 'she acted like an entitled, selfish bitch.'

'No!' Harry burst out in protest, before stopping to reflect. 'Well, she does act like that some–'

'Not when your life could be in danger. And besides, she's too arrogant to ask for help unless she really needs it, perhaps not even then.'

'So what are you saying?'

'I'm saying that Fleur's either about to die, or that she's working with You-Know-Who, or that was just a dream or that wasn't even Fleur whom you spoke to.'

Harry loudly and vehemently disagreed with Aurelie on all four counts. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he acknowledged her smartness could prove useful; and maybe she was even right, but his conscious mind refused to seriously entertain any of the possibilities that the French girl had listed. Anyways, maybe she was just manipulating him again and trying to mess with his mind. He didn't know how much leeway Unbreakable Vows had with these things, but the redhead kept arguing undeterred.

'No, no, stop, stop!' Harry held up his hand. 'You might be right or wrong, I don't care! If there's even the slightest chance that Fleur is in danger, and I can help her, there's absolutely no chance in hell that I'm going to sit back and do nothing!'

'But why, why?' Aurelie cried out in frustration, 'Why do you care so much about a girl you just met a few months back? Why is she worth all this trouble?'

At her words, even Sirius, who had been steadily ignoring their conversation, glanced at Harry curiously.

Harry took a deep breath before replying. 'I don't know,' he said as he looked deep into the broken fireplace, as if searching for answers. 'I just know that she is.'

Sirius started to say something but Harry cut him off, 'And it's not just about her; it's also about everyone in there; it's about standing up to Voldemort; it's about doing something, anything, to make a difference; it's about doing what's right.' Conviction rang clear and true in his voice.

'You don't always have to do something,' his godfather said gently, 'sit back, grow, and let others help you out. You don't have to be a hero.'

'I know,' was the simple reply, 'but I want to.'

Preparations took but a few minutes, with Aurelie chiming in with a few helpful suggestions that were surprisingly supported by Sirius. Harry didn't want to wait too long. He had stalled Mr Delacour long enough by destroying the Floo fireplace with a powerful Reducto the moment he stepped out. But there was nothing stopping the Head Auror from walking right in through the front door, assuming he knew where they had gone. They had to leave as soon as they could.

His magically enlarged pockets were soon filled with food, water, books and a few prank items that Sirius had enchanted in a jiffy and insisted that Harry take them along. They spent a few more precious minutes deciding how he was to find Fleur and what he was to do once he did.

'Alright, Aurelie. It's time.' Harry said once everything was crystal clear. 'You still haven't told me where the supposed Portkey is that's supposed to take us to Beauxbatons,'

A cheeky smile stole across her lips as she reached a hand into the front of her soiled dress and pulled out a small, shiny object from her cleavage. A bright, silver ring glittered in her palm.

'It was the only way I could hide it from the Aurors,' she said by way of explanation.

Harry nodded mutely as he took the still warm ring from her hand. An emerald-eyed snake looked back at him.

'What...' he stopped himself from speaking in Parseltongue. 'What's the activation phrase?'

Aurelie touched the ring in his hand, brushing Harry's fingers. 'Draco had said it needed a Malfoy to say the phrase for it to work. But then he told he had lied,' she mused thoughtfully, and then without warning–

'Salazar Slytherin,' she said, as something caught his navel and twisted him out of existence. A few moments later, they arrived in the middle of the enormous dining area in Beauxbatons. They were lucky there were no students there.Finally, Harry thought, after so many days of wandering here in my dreams. He was finally in the besieged school. Fleur wasn't too far away – he could feel it.

But beside him, Aurelie had turned around, her face as white as sheet as she looked at the far corner of the hall.

Harry followed her eyes to see a man striding towards him with an almost inhuman grace.

'Harry Potter,' Voldemort spread his arms wide, a vicious smile spreading across his thin lips as he stopped not five feet from them. 'The Boy-Who-Lived,' his words mockingly hung in the air with undisguised malevolence. The Gryffindor felt his heart leap into his mouth.

'I have been expecting you,' the Dark Lord's robe swirled around him like black night as his blood-red eyes regarded Harry with a grim satisfaction. 'I daresay you're just in time for the Second Task.'